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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24983962">Mirror, Mirror</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pacey1927/pseuds/Pacey1927'>Pacey1927</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:14:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,879</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24983962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pacey1927/pseuds/Pacey1927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A trip to the flea market brings an unexpected find.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mirror, Mirror</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’d like to find some Metallica or Poison albums. The one with ‘Every Rose Has its Thorn’ would rock”, Ian Gallagher said as he opened the door to the Southside Flea Market. The door bell tinkled in response to welcome them. “I think there are still new reissues but those are like thirty bucks.”</p>
<p><br/>“Bitch please,” mumbled Mickey Milkovich, “Your ass probably just wants to jam to some ‘Unskinny Bop’, ya puss.”</p>
<p><br/>They had a rare free Saturday to spend together and were making the most of it. Their time together in general had been less than the new husbands would prefer. Usually Ian was working his EMT job in a program designed to help parolees get back on their feet. Mickey worked all kinds of crazy hours at the warehouse, mostly night shifts, and spent a few hours twice a week at the Chicago Learning Center attempting to learn enough to pass his high school GED. More than a few times, Mickey had thought about how much easier it would be to run some drugs or guns again for cash. But they were determined to get their shit together, so they could finally live peacefully, without the threat of separation hanging over them. Having a free Saturday was almost unheard of these days and they were determined to spend it together even if it mostly involved running errands.<br/>The first stop was the flea market. Ian had been on an old vinyl record kick lately after scoring a few albums at a yard sale last month. He’d even purchased one of those new but retro-looking record players. They both loved 80’s metal and rock music and even Mickey had to grudgingly admit it could be fun to hunt for new albums. So far, they had collected some Def Leppard and Bon Jovi vinyl. In Mickey’s opinion, Ian had gotten way too excited after he had found an original copy of Thriller with minimal scratches for $2.00 at the Goodwill last week. Though it was highly amusing to watch Ian do his white man’s version of a moonwalk. It was a terrible mockery of the King of Pop and Ian knew it damn well but still showed the move off every single time an MJ song played. However, when the house was extra crowded they could blare one of the albums while they got to business and could be as loud as the wanted to be.</p>
<p><br/>After they finished up here they would need to do the dreaded weekly grocery shopping and hopefully wind the day down with a movie or some video game matches.</p>
<p><br/>“We have to stick to twenty bucks, Mick. We need the rest of the cash for groceries and gas this week”.<br/>The men stopped at the first booth that caught their eye. It was a jumbled mess of stuff from old video games to aging yellow books and rusted hand tools.</p>
<p><br/>Mickey tested a pair of ancient looking pliers, halfheartedly, “I still don’t know why Carl or Debbie can’t freaking walk into a grocery store once in a while. Especially Debbie, she’d know what her kid should eat better than we do”</p>
<p><br/>Since being married, shopping for the entire Gallagher household had fallen on them. Debbie and Carl refused to shop but they each dutifully threw down a few bucks every week and knew that magically they’d find all the milk and coffee they’d need for the rest of the week. Must be nice. Being a respectable adult really could suck.<br/>“Hey, be grateful they pitch in at all,” Ian said. He moved away from the first booth and continued down the first row of stalls. “Kev said there were a couple of booths here that have tons of records”.</p>
<p><br/>“I just see junk and more junk. Oh, wait. Look here, even more shitty junk,” Mickey complained. And hey, he used to love a good pile of junk, but they were living minimally these days.</p>
<p><br/>They had gone down two full aisles of nothing but mechanical cast offs and ten-year-old video games before they found a booth comprised of box upon box of records. Mickey grabbed one box and began flipping through it while Ian grabbed another.</p>
<p><br/>“We ain’t gonna find shit here, man, this is like 70’s disco and gospel choir crap,” complained Mickey, as he tossed aside a dusty album called ‘Daddy’s Best Disco’. Jesus, who the hell ever listened to that shit?</p>
<p><br/>“Come on, it’s fun,” Ian pacified, looking up from his box to look at his husband.</p>
<p>“There are better ways to have fun together,” Mickey grinned at Ian while arching an eye.<br/>Mickey felt smugly satisfied when Ian returned his naughty grin with one of his own. But then Ian turned back to the box.</p>
<p><br/>After looking through the third dusty old box, this one mostly Gospel of the 1950’s, Mickey gave up and walked away, leaving Ian to it. He was officially bored. What the fuck else did this shithole have for sale?</p>
<p>*****************************************************************************************************************</p>
<p>Ian was only dimly aware that Mickey had wandered off. That man had the attention span of a fly. He continued to flip through albums. Maybe his husband was right. There wasn’t a lot of selection in this booth at all. He did better at the Goodwill. Husband, he thought. He’d didn’t think he would ever get tired of that word.<br/>He’d just pushed aside one tattered box of mostly Honkey Tonk records and pulled another dusty one toward him when he heard Mickey’s voice, clearly but somewhat distantly.</p>
<p><br/>“How much for that mirror?”</p>
<p><br/>Wait, Ian thought, that what? He left the box where it was and followed Mickey’s voice. He stood in another booth across the aisle and a few spots to the left of the record booth. This booth had a mixed assortment of items from furniture to Avon beauty products and at first Ian couldn’t figure out what Mickey was asking about.<br/>He stopped directly behind Mickey before he realized Mickey was inquiring about a big and hideously ugly mirror that was hanging from the wall of the booth.</p>
<p><br/>An older man with wrinkles and a cowboy said that the mirror was $199. Ok, Ian didn’t know why Mickey was asking about this nasty mirror but with that price Mickey would laugh and walk away.</p>
<p><br/>“Can’t you come down at all man?” Mickey asked.</p>
<p><br/>Wait, Mickey was serious about buying this thing? Ian looked at it more closely. It was a very thick, oval mirror whose frame was made from some type of worn-down light wood. About halfway down each long side of the oval the wood spread out from each side to become a twist of vines and flowers. The vines were painted a pastel green, and the flowers were painted a light pink. At the end of each side of flowers and vines were little twisty wood columns. It looked like in a previous life maybe those columns had attached to something. It had seen better days. Honestly, it had seen better decades.</p>
<p><br/>“One hundred eighty dollars. Lowest I can go,” the man said.</p>
<p><br/>“The fuck, man? There’s a big chip in it, this is damaged goods,” complained Mickey.</p>
<p>When Ian studied the monstrosity, he could see a long crack ending in a chip in the wood vine design on the righthand side. Truly it was larger than a chip, almost a full chunk of the wood was gone.</p>
<p><br/>Ian tugged on the sleeve of Mickey’s jean jacket and whispered, “Come on, let’s go”.</p>
<p><br/>Mickey shrugged Ian off, his focus still on the vendor.</p>
<p>“How long have you had this thing? Its probably been sitting in here for years, gathering dust. No one wants this piece of shit. I’m willing to take it off your hands for a hundred bucks”.</p>
<p><br/>Ian recoiled. They didn’t have a hundred dollars. They had groceries to buy. They had $190 in cash between them and it was sitting in Ian’s pocket. They weren’t going to be able to buy groceries with ten freaking dollars.</p>
<p><br/>“Mickey,” Ian began, “we can’t afford….”</p>
<p><br/>But Mickey interrupted him, relentless in his dealings with the old man. “One hundred dollars cash in hand right now."</p>
<p><br/>“No,” replied the old cowboy, “this is an antique. Vintage and in high demand."</p>
<p><br/>“High demand my ass, Bronco Bill”, Mickey snorted, “Seriously how long have you had it?”</p>
<p><br/>“About seven months”, the old man admitted.</p>
<p><br/>“Where did it come from?”, Mickey asked.</p>
<p><br/>“An estate sale. Old woman died, and her kids sold of her stuff. This well taken care of item that has a rich and beloved history.”</p>
<p><br/>“Sure, it was grandpa”, Mickey continued to look from the man to the mirror and back.</p>
<p><br/>Ian began again, “Mickey come on. You don’t really want this thing, right?”</p>
<p><br/>Finally, Mickey glanced at him, “No Ian, I’m arguing with the old guy because I don’t want the mirror. Jesus.”</p>
<p><br/>“We can’t afford this Mickey. We have to buy groceries and get gas for the week. We don’t even have a freaking place for it. It’s huge.”</p>
<p><br/>The man was looking at Mickey’s hand, “I could do a partial trade. One hundred in cash and the ring in exchange for the mirror.”</p>
<p><br/>“What the actual fuck man,” Mickey said voice rising up in alarm, “I’m not giving you my fucking wedding band.”<br/>The man just shrugged.</p>
<p><br/>Mickey was agitated. Ian couldn’t remember the last time Mickey looked like this. The closest time that came to mind happened in the days spent wedding planning, when Mickey was also acting so very out of character. Now he was rolling his neck and tapping his foot. Ian was completely baffled and didn’t know where this was coming from. Mickey really didn’t care much about things in general. He didn’t need fancy clothes, furniture, jewelry or cars. If he had a roof over his head, food in his belly, and Ian by his side then he was a perfectly contented man. Even if Mickey had enjoyed the finer things in life, this mirror in no way could be considered one.“Will you hold it for a hundred bucks? I’ll be back before the week is out with the other eighty.”</p>
<p><br/>“I don’t do holds,” answered the man, “you won’t come back, and my time will be wasted.”</p>
<p><br/>“I’m not going to ditch you after giving you a hundred dollars. Okay, let’s say I’m not back in two weeks, you can keep the damn money and the mirror.”</p>
<p><br/>“Mickey!”, exclaimed Ian.</p>
<p><br/>The man considered Mickey’s offer for a tense few seconds and then agreed.</p>
<p><br/>Mickey turned to Ian, finally looking his husband in the eyes. Softly he said, “I need the money Ian. I can’t explain it, but I want that mirror. I know you think its dumb but please.”</p>
<p><br/>Ian softened at Mickey’s words and the expression in his eyes. “Groceries”, Ian said softly back, glancing behind Mickey at the vendor who was taking it all in.</p>
<p><br/>“Ninety dollars for groceries. I’ll bargain shop. We’ll have a lot of pasta and ramen. We’ve made it through worse.”<br/>Ian pulled the wad of cash from his pocket, counting off five bills and handing them to his husband. Although he couldn’t understand why Mickey needed this mirror, the money belonged to them both. And Mickey never asked for anything, but he always gave and gave. Mick was a relentless giver and it was time for Ian to give something back.</p>
<p><br/>Mickey handed the money to the man, who finally said his name was Jeb. Of course, it was, thought Ian. Jeb wrote out his booth number, phone number and the details of their transaction. He signed the paper and then had Mickey sign it. Ian was sure this wouldn’t hold up in court, but it was better than nothing. Mickey reiterated to Jeb that he would be back before the week was out.</p>
<p><br/>Now, broke and out of steam, they boys headed back to the car. On the way to the grocery store Ian asked Mickey why he wanted that ugly, broken mirror.</p>
<p>“Can we not discuss this?”, Mickey grumbled.</p>
<p><br/>Ian internally pleaded with himself to remain patient. “Well Mickey, you just spent half of our money for the week on a partial payment for a really weird item and that is extremely unlike you.”<br/>“How do you know that Ian? You think because we are married you know every little thing about me? Like you’re an expert.”</p>
<p><br/>Ian’s patience was most definitely going south. “No Mickey, I don’t claim to know everything. But I do think I know you better than any other person in the world, just like you know more about me than anyone else in the world. But somehow, I missed the fact that you were into antique and ugly mirrors.” The volume of his voice rose with each word.</p>
<p><br/>“You don’t know everything. I love you Ian. I do. But I shouldn’t have to justify occasionally wanting to buy something.”</p>
<p><br/>“I’m not even asking you to justify it, I’m just asking for an explanation. You’re intensifying this whole conversation by not just telling me why you want that mirror.”</p>
<p><br/>Ian turned to look out the window as Mickey became intently focused on driving.</p>
<p><br/>After a few uncomfortable minutes Mickey said, “I like the mirror. There’s nothing to explain. I know its crazy that I want it enough to spend that kind of money on it, but I do. And yeah, it’s big and it really is ugly as fuck. One day we will have our own place and there will be more places to hang it.”</p>
<p><br/>Ian’s heart constricted a bit at the mention of ‘their own place’. Another step in their shared dreams of the future, but one that always caused him to pause when he thought about it too hard because he knew that when that time came, it would be bittersweet. He enjoyed having his siblings around them and would miss them. He wouldn’t consider the idea of moving too far away.</p>
<p><br/>Mickey continued, “And I get paid Friday. I’ll pay the other part I owe on the mirror and I’ll go straight out to get any groceries we still need.”</p>
<p><br/>“Ok”, Ian said. He reached over for Mickey’s hand. He didn’t know what else to say. He was still confused but he wanted Mickey to have that mirror. He just wished he could make more sense of it.</p>
<p>*****************************************************************************************************************</p>
<p>Mickey took off again after dropping the bags of groceries on the counter. Ian was putting food away and didn’t even realize Mickey was leaving until he heard the front door shut. When he’d put away the last item, he logged into their joint bank account. He didn’t know why he bothered. He couldn’t expect more money to randomly show up there. Mickey got paid weekly and Ian was paid bi-weekly which sounded terrible to them at first but ended up really helping their finances. They used Ian’s two week checks to pay for the water, electric and other bills and Mickey’s weekly checks paid for gas, groceries and any other odd items. Slowly they had started to save. They each put away 10% of their pay for savings. They really did want that place of their own and they had also started to talk about having kids sooner or later. But just as soon as they would have a decent sum saved, the car would break down or an appliance would crap out. It was always something.</p>
<p><br/>He thought about texting Mick to see where he was. Damn it they were supposed to spend the day together. Something was off between them since that showdown about the mirror and he didn’t think sending Mickey a text would help. He knew this tension would pass but he just felt sick to his stomach about the whole thing. He and Mickey were strong and overcame some truly horrendous obstacles to be together. But fighting over little stupid bullshit was something they just didn’t do. Well, they did bicker a bunch back in prison but that was different. Shit, okay, so they still bickered a lot. But there was never any true heat behind it.</p>
<p>He had settled down in front of the tv some time later. He had just decided to go ahead and text Mickey when banging came from the front door. He jumped up to head for the door but before he could get there it flung open and Carl, Mickey and the damn mirror entered the front room. It took both men to carry it. “This bitch is heavy!”, Carl was saying.</p>
<p><br/>“Careful, help me take it up the stairs to our room.”, Mickey said, “Watch that end. Don’t let hit anything, don’t want to chip it anymore.”</p>
<p><br/>“I thought you weren’t getting it until Friday after you got paid. What did you do?”, Ian grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth. Probably not the best way for him to have phrased that. He trailed his brother and husband up the stairs.</p>
<p><br/>It was a slow and awkward process. Ian was pretty sure they didn’t make mirrors that heavy any more. Now he saw it more closely he thought it was probably from the 60s or 70s.</p>
<p><br/>They reached their bedroom and Mickey and Carl left the mirror on the floor, propped up against the wall.</p>
<p><br/>“This is an ugly motherfucker,” Carl said, “What is it for?”</p>
<p><br/>“Thanks for the help carrying it in. Now get the fuck out.” Mickey told him.</p>
<p><br/>Carl shook his head and left the room.</p>
<p><br/>Mickey turned to Ian, “I pawned something. Got a hundred for it and went ahead and picked the mirror up. I didn’t trust the old guy. He had squinty eyes under that hat.” Now the mirror was in his home, Mickey looked happier, like a weight was off his shoulders. He was even grinning.</p>
<p><br/>Ian was most certainly not grinning. “What did you pawn?”</p>
<p>“The Playstation 3. They gave me $100 for that and a few of the games. Look, I get it back if I pay the money back to the pawn shop in two weeks. I’ll do it Friday with my check.”</p>
<p><br/>“So, you would rather wait a week on the Playstation 3, which we actually use, instead of waiting on the mirror, which will just take up space.”</p>
<p><br/>“I knew you’d bust my balls for this,” he said still smiling, “but I’ll get that back. We can find something else to do with our free time. Play some other kinds of games.” He nudged Ian with his hip. “And we can even watch ourselves in the mirror while we play.”</p>
<p><br/>Fuck it, Ian thought. The mirror was here now, and Mickey’s smile was back. That beautiful, sassy, sexy smile.<br/>“Come here,” Ian said. “Let’s try it out.”</p>
<p>*****************************************************************************************************************<br/>Ian thought the moments spent curled up together were even more precious than the sheet gymnastics were themselves. Legs entangled together, his breath against Mickey’s ear, light kisses along the side of his throat. The smell of him…there was no greater aphrodisiac. He stroked his husband’s arm and snuggled in a little bit tighter.<br/>Micky faced away from Ian, but Ian could imagine that contentment was written all over his features as well. There were times this still didn’t even feel real. They were committed to each other forever. They were free in every sense of the world.</p>
<p><br/>“The mirror was my mom’s.”, Mickey’s voice said softly, out of nowhere.</p>
<p><br/>“Wait, what?”, Ian asked.</p>
<p><br/>“The mirror was my mom’s. I saw it hanging on that wall and needed to buy it.”</p>
<p><br/>Ian sat up, helping Mickey to do the same, beside him.</p>
<p>“How do you know it was your mom’s? Do you mean it looked like your mom’s?”</p>
<p><br/>“Nah, Ian. It’s the same exact one. That crack and chipped off spot? My mom was sitting at the vanity, brushing her hair and talking to me when Terry came in, pissed off at her and threw his beer bottle at us. I think he was aiming for her head, but she curled over me and it hit the mirror.”</p>
<p><br/>“Fuck”, it was the only thing Ian could think to say.</p>
<p><br/>“The mirror sat on top of a vanity thing”, Mickey was looking downward, purposely not wanting to meet Ian’s gaze. Ian held onto Mickey’s hand, gently stroking circles with his finger. “She wasn’t a good mom, sometimes she was pretty rotten. I mean, good moms don’t leave their kids, right? Good mom’s take the kids with them when they dip out. But when she was in a good mood, she’d spend time at that vanity, doing her hair or putting on makeup. Sometimes, she’d see me at the doorway and tell me to come in and sit next to her. She’d tell me stories about when she was a kid, or she’d talk about things we would do in the future, places we’d go. I knew those stories were make believe bullshit when I was six years old, but I still loved to hear them. It’s stupid.”</p>
<p><br/>Ian throat felt rough. “Mick, that’s not stupid at all.”</p>
<p><br/>“She left man, she chose to leave us with that abusive son of a bitch. We didn’t have a lot of protection with her around but when she left we had none. I couldn’t stop what he did to us. I couldn’t save Mandy from him. If mom died instead of choosing to go, maybe it would be different.”</p>
<p><br/>“You don’t have to justify it. She’s your mother. I had a fucked up one too and I never stopped loving her,” Ian said.</p>
<p><br/>Mickey continued, “That mirror was in the house for years after she left, and I avoided it. If I had to go into the room, I’d look away from it. Kind of ironic that I want it now.”</p>
<p><br/>“I wonder how it ended up in the flea market.” Ian mused.</p>
<p><br/>“I came home from juvie one time, I think it was the time I was in there because of Kash, and the mirror was gone. I never asked what happened to it. Everything else of mom’s disappeared shortly after she took off. Bet the mirror was too heavy to fuck with. I know the guy at the flea market said he only had it about seven months so I’m not sure where it went for those years.”</p>
<p><br/>Ian laid his head on Mickey’s shoulder. Together they sat in quiet looking occasionally at the mirror.</p>
<p><br/>“It sucks as a sex mirror. Couldn’t see shit with it down there on the floor,” Mickey grumbled.</p>
<p><br/>“We can hang it up on the wall in here for now. Find a better place when we move out of here,” Ian said, “I like that it brings you good memories of your mom. I’m glad you found it and brought it home. Just the next time, talk to me. Tell me what you are thinking. No secrets. Those are supposed to be past us.”</p>
<p><br/>They stayed together like that for a bit before Mickey asked, “You still want that Playstation back though?”</p>
<p><br/>“I most definitely still want that Playstation back”, Ian agreed, grabbing onto Mickey’s jaw and tilting his face up to his for a kiss.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There are a lot of plot inconsistencies in the Shameless canon in regards to Mickey’s mom.  For this story I chose to go with the latest and clearest statement made by Mickey in Season 10.  “Before my mom ran off…”  If it wasn’t for this being the latest comment regarding Mickey’s mom I would have probably gone with her being deceased.  Be gentle, I'm new to this fan fiction writing, or fiction writing of any kind.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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